


Permafrost

by Superheronerd_1



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Fluff, He loves and is loved, Ice bath, Light Angst, Love, M/M, Pretty much Jon appreciation, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 09:21:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19867228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Superheronerd_1/pseuds/Superheronerd_1
Summary: Jon knows his many (many) titles under his name. Commander, King, bastard then ex-bastard. The White Wolf, Queen-Slayer, The man who can't get warm.Yet it seems he can add idiot to his nameORLyanna Stark gave her son her blood and her life. Rheagar Targaryen gave his son his name.





	Permafrost

Jon woke in a coughing fit,turned his face away from Ghosts terrible breath. "Ghost, off."

Ghost ignored Jon's scratchy demand, instead made himself comfortable across Jon's chest. His poor, tender, maybe close to hyperthermia chest. 

He curled his hand into Ghosts fur and almost hissed at the contrast if his hot skin and Jon's frozen fingers. It was as tho he shoved his hand in fire pit.

His breath was seen in the cool air and Jon snuggled himself back into the mountains of fur he was under. His chest was aching with a chill that just _wouldn't_ go away no matter how much he bundled or how much he spent next to a fire (or under or above one). He shivered and sniffed his nose.

It was still dark and quiet out-middle of the night. He shivered when a guest of wind hit his tent, rattled his teeth together.

Ghost lifts off of him and headbutted Jon's shoulder in a way of affection then pushed his body out of the tent. Jon made no effort to stop him-nothing short of a blizzard could stop the direwolf.

It's been over a year since Jon's banishment to the Nights Watch. Or, more accurately, been over a year since Jon stepped foot in Westeros.

_"I wasn't leaving you here." Tormund said with one hand behind Jon's head and one arm around his waist. Had not let Jon get both his legs off his horse before he had bounded down from his bridge._

_"Tormund-" Jon tried to say but got a tug in his scalp._

_"You don't owe a damn thing to them. You're not staying, Crow." Tormund was angry. He was confident (he was so fucking handsome). "After everything you did for them, after all the help, and they banish you from their fancy tables?"_

_"Tormund hang-"_

_"I'll kidnap you. Don't argue with me. I won't make it comfortable, I'll make you_ walk _tied to me on my horse."_

_Jon grabbed a chunk of red beard and gave a tug to get Tormund's pitiful threats to stop."I was just wondering when were going!"_

_"Oh. How about now?"_

His hair had grown into a wild nest that reached below his shoulders since then and Jon doesn't care how many people he has to fight for a brush. Tomunds fingers only do so much.

Jon remembers when he was a child with his brother. Cousin? His Robb. They were barely 5 months apart from one another. Hell, they could claim they were twins. 

But instead they were taught that they were different but that never stopped them from bickering like brothers, trying to get Neds attention over who had the better deer kill _("Mines bigger!" "But mines cleaner!" "That's only because it fell in a lake.")_ and running through the woods like wild men together.

Then came Theon. A mousy little boy who followed Jon and Robb as if he would get lost without them. Maybe he would have.

Jon smiles at nothing when he remembers how absolutely _jealous_ Robb was about the fact that Theon got to live in the North wing with Jon." _It's not fair."_ Robb complained to Ned while gripping onto Jon's shoulder. _"Jon's my brother weather you cheated or not, how come I have to sleep in the West wing?"_

He was eight years old and Jon was just shy of becoming the same age when Robb declared this to their father. Instead of getting angry as demanding who Robb and Jon were spending time with (as if they would ever rat out the town's gossip) Ned sat them down.

_"Its about status." Ned said, hands on both his children's shoulders. "Robb you will one day inherit Winterfell. You will be Warden of the North, as all Starks do."_

_"What about me?" Jon asked. "I don't have a last name."_

Jon remembers that his left leg had been cut up fairly deep a few weeks before that. He remembers leaning on Robb as they hopped from the woods to the castle, the stupid rock he had tripped on clutched in his little hand. Who falls on a rock and into _more_ rocks? An idiot.

He remembers this because his leg was aching. He remembers this because Robb had his arm around Jon's shoulders and because Theon was holding a basket of cloths so he would be prepared in case he bleed through his stitches again. Theon was always prepared.

_"You are a Snow." Ned says. Moves his hand to Jon's cheek, comforting. "You are not the son of my wife, but another women."_

_"Jon...snow." Jon murmurs into the rough palm. Hes heard this before. He just assumed it was because he was born in a winter. "Was my mother's name Snow?"_

_Surely this was a way to honor his dead mother. But Ned shook his head. "I'm sorry, my boy. But you are a Snow because you're a bastard. And with me being in the North, the coldest of the continent, you are given the name Snow."_

_Jon knows this. He known he is not Catleynn Starks son. Knew before he walked, probably._

_"But he's_ your _son!" Robb declared._

_"He is."_

_"I'm your son.'_

_"You are."_

_"So it doesn't make sense that I can't sleep in the North wing."_

Jon sits up and pushes his hand into his itchy eyes. He loved his brother. He loved all his brothers, even the shy boy who carried wraps around then carried a sword. Even the one who climbed walls and the one who would bring in a stray weasel _because he looks so sad._ He loved his sisters, from the crying baby who had no qualms of puking in everyone who held her to the one who would be so down right snidely that he didn't feel guilty when he was 12 and she was 7 and that he "accidentally" spilled a bucket of milk all over her new dress.

_"It was by mistake." Theon stood besides Jon as the nanny looked down about them."Truly was."_

_"Ugly dress anyways." Robb laughed that night as they set up a "campout" in the North Wing.(that was once weekly and then turned daily)._

Jon wraps the blanket around his shoulders and bowed his head. He honors his brothers in the strangest way-being proud of being a Stark. But Jon wasn't a Stark. Or maybe he was. Is.

He wonders if this distinction, this simple fact of knowing he wasn't raised by parents who didn't love him from the beginning, but simply because it was _right_ . It was the _honorable_ action to take. 

Jon doesn't wonder too much about it. Ned Stark raised him as his own, loved him. Showed him how to be a man. Catelyn Stark never knew the truth about him. 

"The fuck your wolf getting me up for?" A groggy voice asked from the entrance.

Jon nearly breaks his neck he snaps his head up so hard. Tormund was wrapped in his overshirt and a coat that seemed to be put on in haste.His hair was...there isn't a word Jon knows that could describe the disaster. He was still in the zone of sleeping and Jon watched as he fought to keep his eyes open. Dry drool on his beard and the skin of his nose peeling.

All together Tormund was still the most attractive man Jon ever laid his eyes on.

Ghost bounded in right behind Tormund, let Jon trail his fingers on his furs as he passed him and snuggled in behind him. He seemed pretty fuckin satisfied with himself.

Jon looked back up and gave a warm smile. "No idea." His teeth were still chattering, voice was thick with emotion and sleep.

Tormund stared down at him for a moment with his intense gaze. Jons still trying to decide if it excites him or if it puts him off, not that he would ever truly complain. Tormund, gods take his soul, pushes Jon's boots out of the way and maneuvers the rest of his overwhelming bulk in. "Push over,I ain't trudging back out in this." He says and kicks off his boots.

They both know the snow stopped hours ago. Both knew the sky was clear with a new moon and Tormund's tent was only feet away. 

Jon doesn't think about it and goes to the side. It's not the first time they've shared a tent and won't be the last. And if they're still the only ones using tents despite the houses being built around them. Well. Free folk don't care.

Tormund quite frankly takes obnoxious amount of space, so much so that Ghost has to move down and curl himself next to Jon with his head on Jon's hip. 

Tormund ungracefully shoves his arm under Jon's head, other hits Jon's waist and pulls the man towards him so they're both on their sides facing one another. Jon goes with barely any resistance, instead just helps himself to the warmth that the giant gives.

Hot breath blowing in his face, scratchy beard poking at his eye. Jon would fight the Lord of Light itself for a second more of this.

One hand is on his curls, twirling the strands. "So why you up?" Tormund's voice is gravely in his throat, eyes red from helping the rest of their clan of building. For now they've settled in a place just below the mountains on the edge of the world, next to a wide vast of ocean. Jon's never had to put up a wall but his own arms ache with new muscle being used.

He's pretty satisfied with it. It was a new accomplishment-only death involved were the frozen trees slowly melting with a warm sun.

Jon takes a moment, distracted by the feeling of Tormund's hand playing with his curls. He returns the favor by pressing his own calloused fingers under Tormund's shirt and towards his broad back and presses in, searching for those knots. "Still can't get used to this cold. Thinking to much about my history." He grins, cheeks wide."Haven't been fucked in a time. You know how it goes."

Tormund groans appreciatively when Jon presses down harder. Jon feels lips against his hairline. "One of these days I swear by the old gods, Crow, I'm gonna have you ride me until your legs give out."

What an absolutely perfect image."Don't think you would last that long. But I'd love to tire you out." 

He gets a hair pull for that, which admittedly did the opposite effect of pain. 

Jon doesn't know when _this_ started. Maybe when he died because he allegedly betrayed the Watch. Maybe when they were alone and Tormund told him about his girls. Or, more likely, when Jon finally _finally_ went to the North and stayed.

But no matter how much he shares a blanket with Tormund and wakes up with his horrendous breath on his face, no matter how much Jon aches to say how much this man means to him, he can't get warm. He can't get settled.

He wants to be with Tormund until he dies. Again. He wants to be old and fat with Ghost on one side, Tormund on the other, watching the girls and their children run around the land. He remembers thinking his death would be at the end of someone else's sword, and not to long ago. Now he wants a boring death. A boring life. 

With warmth. 

"Did I tell you about Theon when he first came to Winterfell?" Jon murmurs into warm skin.

Tormunds eyes are just barely open. He traces his thick fingers down Jon's face and Jon kisses each one as they guide past his lips. "The shy boy."

"He used to cry every time he was alone." Jon whispers. He tangles his fingers in Tormund's shirt. "Not ugly sobbing, but just pathetic enough that it came to a point that Robb and I made sure he always had someone."

Little Theon, dressed in Stark garb. "He had this diadem of the Iron Borns signal. I think he thought Robb and I never knew about it. But one day all of us decided to venture to the river and follow it to the lake. Even Sansa, if you could believe it."

Jon smiles. "She made Arya,who had just turned 4 hold her hand the entire way. Little Arya _hated_ having to touch people, claimed that we got to sweaty and sticky and smelly. Sansa made Bran hold her other hand and he just wanted to pick up dirt. So there we are, a bunch of bumbling kids following where the river ends when we find this sort of pool. It wasn't huge but it was deep.

"Theon had not seen that much water in years, he told me. And so we did what many children did. We jumped in, clothes and all."

Tormunds hand had slowly started to stall and Jon knew that his wildling was just on the edge of reality. Jon was telling a bed time story. 

"Robb and I wanted to see who could hold our breath the longest-we wouldn't let Theon even _try_ to beat against us. We knew he could be under that water and not come out until we died of old age. Then we all took turns trying to teach Arya how to swim the alternating of who held Bran. "

It was one of the happiest moments of Jon's life. All of them getting along, splashing one another. "At one point Theon, Sansa, Robb and I divided into a square. I had little Bran on my back and we had Arya swimming from one to one. She was doing pretty well and right when she was swimming to Sansa the current had picked up."

Jon about pissed his pants at that moment. Arya going farther and farther away from them,her fearful eyes. _My sister_ he thought in his head. "As she was going farther from us we were all chasing, but I had Bran and Sansa was in her dresses and Robb was to far away. Thn out of _nowhere_ Theon had shot past all of us."

Tormunds hands had stopped moving. Chest rising up and down steadily. "Theon swam so damn fast that we thought he was a god. We all cheered as he turned around with Arya in his arms, clinging to his neck. The current had no effect on him. It was like he was in a still lake, like he was moving through air. Sure it wasn't the ocean but Theon was no match for nature that day.

"After that we started back home. We all took turns trying to hold Arya who was over her near death experience fairly quickly, and hugging theon who didn't seem to get it. _That's what you do._ He said."

That moment, that moment right there, Jon knew what he wanted to be. He wanted to be as fearless as Theon Greyjoy who saved a girl of the family who took him from his land. "Later I found out that he lost his diadem. He had it in his pocket but because of the current and swimming after Arya it got lost in the lake. He knew the risk. He took it anyways."

Tormund took a deep breath and gave a snor. He had fallen asleep, lulled by a child knowing the difference between honor and self-sacrifice.

Jon thought of that lake. All of the children having fun, but changing after that moment. One of them had almost died. One of them had saved her.

They were not the same kids who went jumping in. They came out as children who truly realized that they could do anything.

The air was still cold, wind blowing. He had Tormund's breath in one ear and the sounds of nature in the other. 

Tormunds face was relaxed. Lips parted blowing air into Jon's face. His beard was scratchy against Jon's forehead, but he doesn't mind. Especially doesn't mind when this particular beard scratches his inner thighs to the point where sitting down is a bit awkward.

Jon curled into Tormund and closed his eyes.

For a little while.

Tormund could sleep thru a snowstorm, walking up to only realize himself. Jon's to edgy. To skeptical to falls into a deep sleep, and can only do it when he feels so sure of everything and everyone now. He's become paranoid.

So he watched the tent get the slightest bit lighter, same time not seeing it. He just couldn't get that lake out of his head.

He could not get drowning out if his head. The cold water filling his lungs, him fighting past his heavy clothes to get to the air. Freezing fingers just barely gripping on to his sword, onto a dragon.

He had been only in survival mode that this was no different. He was trained for the cold-do not panic. Force the body to relax. Hold your lungs. Remember your legs and kick.

He must have been relieved at living. He must have been, after all if he had died would he would this digging his fingers into the hair on Tormunds chest. Each of his heart beats, each obviously loud snort.

Jon has been only surviving for others for so long he cannot remember last time he lived for himself. Take what he wanted (what he wants is Tormunds last name).

The ice water could not have been as warm as Jon thinks it was. He knows this, remembers the burning-not-burning of it in his wounds.

It was crazy. Only an idiot would do it. Same idiot it steps on a rock then falls onto rocks. Same idiot thought that he would actually be forced to stay at the watch for his dying days and (in said wildling words) the same "fucking idiot, you thought I was gonna let then keep ya? You're mine."

Jon feels so deeply for Tormund that it _hurts._ But in the best way possible. In the most exhilarating form to ever exist.

If asked Jon would gladly give Tormund his knee. Hell, he would cut it off for him. What's losing a bone or two for the most fierce,most sure, most loyal man alive? Nothing. 

He traced his cold fingers over Tormund's nose. Wasn't smooth, a bump where it's been broken a dozen times.

Traced his cheekbones. The little scar that reached his eye. His parted lips. Trailed his hand down Tormund's neck and into the open gap of his shirt and felt the chest hair. Jon leaned into it as kissed the mass of muscle.

Jon never got the crazy amount of hair. Doesn't know why (he knows), doesn't care. 

But Jon's not a liar, not in his own mind. He cares. He knows why his body is fairly hairless. Knows why he's pretty for a man.

He wondered if Rhaegar Targaryen would have loved him.

Jon sat up,blanket falling to his waist. It was one of those decisions he knew was going to happen, he was to intune with his body to stop himself. He leaned over Tormund who just barely stopped his steady breathing and whispered "Gotta piss." 

Stood up. Told Ghost to stay put when he started to rise and scratched behind his ear as he pulled his boots on. One more pet on his white head as Jon walked out.

There was no one outside. Enough buildings had been structured that there really wasn't any reason for Tormund and Jon to still be using tents but what could Jon say. He likes privacy.

(Tormund would say that Jon is to loud so be near anyone. Jon would vehemently deny this.)

The snow crunched under his boots and as he got closer to the large ocean it became less of a _sha-mush_ and more of a _cr-aek_ noise. He grabbed one of the ice hooks and ice carves left in a basket near the edge of the camp.

It was so cold that there was a foot of ice over the water so if anyone wanted to fish they had to carve and pull the chunk out. Maybe use that chunk of salt water to make a bath or naturally flavor your deer. Whatever works.

Jon just thought of that lake. They all went swimming in it after. Same lake they taught Bran to swim in and then little Rickon. All the babies Jon's watched grow into men and women and look who's left. 

A banned king, a _wise_ king, a gentle Queen, and...a traveller? Assassin? Ship Captain? Whatever Arya is doing.

What a pack.

Jon loved the morning after a snowstorm. The sky was so incredible clear it went on forever. It probably did, who was Jon kidding.

It was that precious time in dawn where the moon was out on one side and the colors of the rising sun was just peaking out. If he truly listened he would be able to faintly hear the current beneath the thick layer of ice.

About 50 feet over the ice and away from the already carved holes Jon dropped the hook and stabbed into the ice.

Jon neve fancied himself stupid in his life. Sure, it was murmured in the halls of...everywhere he's been. No one truly meant it (aside for Lady Catelyn). As he hated to prove her right, but this? Jon really was an idiot. He reminded himself of this as he carved through the ice. Reminded himself of this when he realized he forgo gloves to wear to protect his already callused hands. Tried to remember that he was once a King.

Jon sat back on his hunches and twisted his hair back. It's way beyond his shoulders at this point but the curls have remained despite the added weight. Robbs hair at last turned wavy when he grew out his hair.

Jon kept his hands at his neck and looked up. His nose tingled painfully as the cold air hit him but he breathed in deeply as he stared at the stars.

There was almost as many out the night when Jon practically climbed Tormund like a tree and stuck his tongue so far into the man's mouth Jon was suprised he could still breath.Wasn't like Tormund was angry about it. There were almost as many stars out as when Tormund as slammed Jon into a tree and held him up, biting and lickin at Jon's lips.

Jon wished he could say it to Tormund. The man who lead but did not lead a village of people. 

He countined to hack into the ice.

He watched his father do this plenty of times with the trees. He had helped his father a few times when it was just the two of them, where Jon could occupy all of his attention without fighting for it with his other siblings. He could talk all day about the frog he has (not so) secret under his bed name Allistar, about how he grew out of his boots because hes a "Growing Man!".

Father would smile at him,ask how his studies are going and what his favorite color was. A week before everything changed Father had even joked about Allistar the frog and wondered if be remains alive.

(Jon will continue to believe the frog was alive no matter what.He deserved that much of ridiculous hope.)

Jon was raised by his Uncle. He was raised by a man who loved Jon like a son.

Jon wondered if Rhaegar Targaryen would have loved him.

The ice was finally _finally_ cut through. Jon tossed the slicer to the side, stuck the hooks into it and heaved heaved _heaved_.

Th chunk lifted just enough then dropped back down. He should have made the stupid hole smaller but Jon was an _idiot_. 

Jon let out the air he was holding and repositioned himself. Took a deep breath and _heaved_.

The block lifted high enough that an edge caught on the side of. From that Jon used his body weight to propel himself backwards and brough the block with him. He and the block slide a few feet and Jon's leg sprawled to the sides.

The sky had turned a sort of purple. The moon was the tiniest smidge lower, stars dimmer. 

Jon stood himself up while leaving the hooks in his conquest. Then, before he could really talk himself out of anything so stupid, started to strip down.

If he thought it was cold with all his layers, well, _its fucking colder without his furs_.

" _Fuck fuck fuck_." He murmured though his violently rattling teeth. "Fuck fuck FUCK." he continued as he shed his shirt.

It was the dumbest thing he's ever thought of doing. An he's done dumb things. He climbed down the 100 foot walls of Winterfell with bed sheets tied to a gargoyle. He and Sam used to throw chunks of lettuce at one another to see if it could be used as a last resort weapon (it couldn't). He once had sex with Tormund with no oil.

(Giants milk doesn't just affect the arms of a man, Jon knows that. Couldn't use a horse for a solid 6 days.)

Jon looked around and made sure no one was near (as if anyone would bother to look over at him to really noticr) as he dropped his pants and socks.

Finally he stood over the water in just his undergarments. He looked in the sky and sent a silent prayer _Do not let me freeze to death_ _oh please do not let me die for being an idiot._

He dropped his undergarments and on to the pile and the shivers turned into violent trembles. The wind was gently as it blew on his naked body, rasing bumps on his arms. He curled his hands around his chest and closed his eyes as if that would help. Hell.

The water was moving and it gently splashed onto his frightening red toes, little drops of a different sensation of burning. His whole body was shaking trying to get warm. But Jon was a idiot and ignored the overwhelming thought of _get dressed get dressed get dressed_.

He stuck a toe in the water and took it back out quickly. Put his foot in but that made it _worse_.

He stood on one leg and he curled his icy foot around the opposite back knee. He looked back at the sky and gave a full appreciation of the purple sky as he shivered so hard he started to groan from his chest.

"Okay, okay." He shook himself out as put hi foot back on the ice. He wanted to concave on himself to try and keep warm but he was disciplined (dimwitted) enough to stay straight with fists at his side. "You're an idiot. You've killed hundreds of men. You fought a bear once. You almost won. _You can do this."_

He dreaded this. He can't just go in slowly, he would still be out here at noon if he did that. Nope. Jon was going to have to jump in.

He closed his eyes and sent out one last prayer to the old and new gods. Then another last player for his sanity to return to him one day. Clasped his hands together and baptized himself.

**_FUCK FUCK FUCK_ **

Jon's eyes shot open and he gasped at the absolute intensity of freezing the water was at. He felt the air bubble pass his face and he followed it up. He was burning alive! He was sure of it! Was this how the innocents o King Landing felt? Was this what his once queen did to them? 

His head popped out into the world and be hoisted him self partially out of the water. Because that's what this is. Water. Not fire. That's not a burn, that's just ice.

He coughed out the shock and shivered, whimpering just the little bit. By the nines.

Jon's mouth was partially open as he caved in on himself. Thank the wind had stopped for a moment. He stared forward into the blank ice in front of him. 

Ice. This is ice. This is not fire.

He breathed in so deeply it hurt then, with only a little hesitation, went back down.

The water moved around him and he pushed his arms up and gripped the edges of the hole he made. It wasn't very fee-only went to his chest. But he stayed under.

There was a moment where all Jon could focus on was the pain of jumping into this. The stabbing force of cold attacked his body in such a violent was that he kicked out his limbs unconsciously. His knuckles clenched the rough ice. 

Slowly the stabs ebbed off and he was _just_ cold. He could focus on something that wasn't his body in pain.

He could focus on the feeling of floating. The water was...soft. That's the word. It was absolutely horrible and freezing and Jon was never doing this again, but the water was soft and yielding.

He was told of Lyanna, how brave she was. How stubborn and loving.

Jon heard about his mother and murmured her name in prayers for the after life when the family bowed over for meals. He remembers his father took him down to the tombs when he was a child. Always had a good tale of Lyanna for him. She loved riding on a horse. She was awful at skinning rabbits. She once was so put off by Ned that she took his pillow and filled it up with flour and when Ned went to bed that night and set his head down the flour covered every inch of his bed.

He let out some air. It was quiet here, in this pocket of the land. The salt didn't even burn his body-the cold was doing that.

His fingers were numb and toes had maybe fallen off. Or maybe they were eaten by some unknown fish, who can say. Jon breached the service for air again and pushed his body back down.

He saw one painting of Rhaegar Targaryen. It was after the Battle of Kingslanding, a moment he had with his sisters before he was banished. Arya had somehow retrieved it with the tips of Bran who found a hidden area for them to converge.

_"You have his nose." Arya said._

_"You have his smile." Sansa murmured._

_"I have his_ hair. _Look at that mess!" Jon joked._

_"You have his good heart." Bran said without emotion and they all looked at the King._

__

_"I assume Jon's heart is stronger. Because. You know. Started beating again." Arya bravely accepted the swat Sansa gave out for that._

__

His hair was floating around him, just holding on to its natural curl. The world wasn't as dark as he thought it would be, underneath this layer. He could just see beyond his body, sun streaming through.

__

_"Who was Rheagar." Jon asked Daenerys once when they were sitting on a balcony overlooking Dragonstone. Before the Long Night, before he bent the knee. Who was the man who raped his aunt?_

__

_"My eldest brother."_

__"Was he...like you?"_ _

__

_Daenerys shrugged. "I wouldn't know. He died before I was born. Don't look sad, Jon. He was a good man." She smiled weakly. "I used to hear stories about him growing up. How he was kind. He loved with his whole being.If you don't mind me being completely honest, I often wished he was alive with me instead of Viserion. I loved my brother but he…" she trailed off._

__

_Jon wasn't sure if he should apologize or not. But she could tell and shook her head. "My brother loved power. Loved the idea of becoming king. He never saw the people he left me with."_

__

_"Who did he leave you with?"_

__

_"The hopeless. The ones who didn't know how to live life, or had no life to live. They were forgotten." Daenarys hair had started to blow in the wind. "I promised them I would never forget them. And I won't. The forgotten deserve love and happiness as much as remembered."_

__

Jon got more air and ducked back down.

__

His body was getting numb but...he was becoming warm. He knew this was likely because of hyperthermia but. But.

__

_"You'll be alright." Tormound murmured in his ear. "Or you won't."_

__

_"Jon did not speak much then, still getting his scratchy voice to work once more after the dungeons. Still.processing that he could just live now. "I'm not a basturd. "_

__

_it was an obvious chang of subject but Tormund had been sent by the gods and went with it."Don't understand why you focused too much on that anyways. Thought the south loved having heirs." Tormund faced forward and_ hurphed. 

__Jon smiled weakly. "Even if Ned and Catelynn and all of my siblings died I would still inherit nothing. If I were to use technical terms, I would have nothing to lose. I had nothing to lose."_ _

__

_"And if you weren't using technical?"_

__"I had a family that I constantly worried about. I loved them all."_ _

Jon was loved. He knows this with every fiber of himself. As that's what always hurt.

__

He loved his family with a burning passion, yet he was always reminded that he was not wanted. He was not a Stark, he was not family. He was separated, pushed to the coolest wing of the castle with the servers. He was raised with education and swordsman classes and everything a poor man wished he had.

__

But Jon was part of a family that had to draw their lines. He was not a Stark.

__

Jon went to the surface and stared out for a moment as shivered as breathed deeply. His lungs burned, in the sweetest way possible, teeth aching in each socket

__

His heart was beating and his arms wrapped around his chest. His scars ached and his nipples were hard as pebbles. Pretty sure his cock disappeared. 

__

The shock of cold didn't lessen with each dive.

__

_"My daughters have different mothers. I claim them both, and if I had anything to inherit they would split it." Tomund said simply. "And if they don't want my last name I would still claim them."_ _"You mean if they marry?"_

__

_"No. We make our own names here. We take our first by our parents, our middle by our grandparents, but we are allowed to choose our last names. Mostly because we want to be recognized by what shaped us."_

__

_Jon sat back in the chair. They were at Winterfell in Jon's room. Old room. He traced the wooden table carved the crude image of a horse fighting a fish he and Theon made as children. "Must be amazing. To not have so much focus on a name." He said wistfully. Weakly._

__

_Tormund smiled down at him from his chair. "Dont be going soft on me now, Little Crow."_

__

He let go of one ledge and studied his wrinkled fingers. They had a blueish tint to them. Maybe from the blue of the water. Maybe the lack of blood.

__

His elbows felt like glass as he bent them slowly. A rush of water flowed through his toes. He watched as a blur (a fish?) Lazily swam around him.

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_"Aegon Targaryen."_

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_"You have to admit there is a ring to it." Sansa said much to Jon's...annoyance? Disbelief?_

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_Arya just sat there. "So father never cheated."_

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_And that's it, wasn't it? Eddard Stark never cheated on his wife. He was an honorable man.Catelyn wanted to hard for Jon not to be a Stark and she was right._

__"I'm not a Stark." Jon said. And...and…_ _

__He was devastated. He was raised as a Stark, he lived in the same home as a Stark. All he ever to be was one, and now that was taken from him. Or was a new name given to him now?_ _

Pop up for air, swallowed again. Feel the rough edges of ice and grip on.

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_"You have a claim to the Throne." Sansa said, glee on her face. "You can be king of the realm!"_

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_"I don't want it. I don't want any crown or title. Daenerys is our Queen."_

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_"We don't know her. She's never stepped foot in Westeros."_

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_"She's gentle." Bran said. "She has a good heart. She's fought for the people." But Jon noticed he says that in a strange way,stranger than his brothers normally aloof voice._

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_Sansa stood up, knocking into the table. The same table Jon had never been able to sit at, to eat with his family. "Jon I understand she's your aunt-"_

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_"I didn't find out about this until a day ago!" Jon stated. He didn't get it. He doesn't want the Throne, he doesn't want any type of leadership anymore._

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_He's no longer a fighter. He's a damn good soldier and he just wants to go_ home. 

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_Home was the true North. Home was traveling beyond the wall._

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Jon let out some air. Felt the effect of suffocation. Reveled in how quiet it was down here. How still it could be, even with the current.

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_"Rhaegar." Jon said into a bare shoulder. Kissed it. "Targaryen."_

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_"Like the Dragon Mother?" Tormund asked._

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_"My aunt. I'm her nephew."_

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_Tormund laid quietly under Jon for a moment, fingers trailing up and down Jon's spine. Then he let out a full body laugh. "You almost fucked your aunt!"_

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_"Tormund!" Jon sat up with his face rapidly turning red, hips framing Tormund's naked form. "This is not the time!"_

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_But Tormund kept laughing underneath him which did interesting things to their bodies._

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Jon burned in fire. He knows this. He wasn't a dragon as his aunt was. He was a Northerner, born to be wild. 

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Pop up,take air, back down.

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_"He annulled his marriage in secret then married Lyanna." Bran told Jon later, alone. "You were born into an honest family." His strange little brother (cousin) tilts his head just a fraction. He even grabs onto Jon's arm. "They were thrilled when they found out they were expecting. Rheagar named you."_

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And that was it. 

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Lyanna Stark gave her son her blood, her life. Rhaegar Targaryen gave his son his name.

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But Jon didn't feel like Aegon Targaryen.He felt like...like Jon.

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He felt like a man who wasn't a bastard. He was wanted. He was... _loved_.

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As he watched his last bit of air float the surface Jon turned in the water. He was freezing, he was warm. His body ached with this bone deep chill and every crevice was exposed to the unforgiving cold but Jon was _warm_.

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Hair moved around him. No curls, just waves. He loved his father Ned Stark and Ned loved him. Raised him. But he couldn't let Jon be a Stark for tradition.

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_"Fuck tradition." Jon teased as Tormund kissed down his neck. "I am not kidnapping you. You know how long that'll take? You're ruthless."_

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_Tormund laughed into Jon's collar bone. "Aye, but the image of you trying to actually catch me? Hilarious."_

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Jon loves Tormund. He's known this. It's as simple of knowing the sky is blue. It just is.

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Jon grips onto the sides of the edge and heaves himself up. 

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His face meets the cold air. The sky is a gorgeous purple, moon a yellow circle on the edge of the world. His teeth started chattering as soon as they meet the cool winds. 

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The sky was still that wonderful shade of purple, he could see through his irritated eyes. Did he have eyes? Gods hes so numb.

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Jon held onto the edges of the ice. His arms, his body, all freezing as he started to lift himself out, shaking just enough Jon was worried he wasn't going to make it out, forced to live out his dying hour in this. But fate has other plans an those plans come with big warm hands grabbed him from beneath his arms and _yanked_.

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"What the _fuck_ do you think you're doin!?" Tormund yelled at him in his rough voice. He brought jon closer to his body while awkwardly trying to grab his fallen garb. " _Gotta piss_. This isn't pissing!" 

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Water had splashed all over Tormund when he pulled Jon's body out of the hole and Jon just laughed. Not in a funny way, just laughed about _this_. About Tormund. About the fact that he wasn't a bastard, just an orphan twice over.

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Tormund shook his head and Jon felt Ghost against his bare legs. He reached down to give his good ear a scratch, not minding for the moment that there wasn't a stitch on his body. 

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"Do you have a death wish?" Tormund asked angrily. "Because if you pull this stupid shit again _I'll kill you and bring you back to kill you again."_

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Jon's body was shivering to much for him to respond so h just tried to help Tormund dry him off. 

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"How did you manage to live this long?" Tormund asked while putting on Jon undergarments and socks.

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"I mean that. How many times were you dropped? Or punched? Did you lose your brains somewhere up here?" He asked while helping Jon pull on his pants. 

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"Tor-Tormund." Jon tried. He's _never_ doing this again. But he has to fight through the pain of how hot Tormund felt against his cold cold body. "Tormund."

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"What?!" Tormund snapped. "You gonna tell me you found some sense down there?"

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It wasn't funny but Jon was so...exhilarated. He was full of life! 

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Tormund stood up from getting Jons coat and he wrapped it around his shoulders. His eyes had a hard glint to them. "Why are you diving into frigid water?"

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"I love you." Jon said finally _finally_. He reached up and wrapped his freezing arms around Tormunds neck. "I lo-love you."

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He eyed with Tormund's wild hair as the bigger man just started at him in disbelief. Jon knew he should probably help the man in his mission to dress Jon, he did. So he kissed him.

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It was an agonizing second before Tormund pulled Jon to his body, hands traveling up and down under the cloak. Jon was sure he would have done this, kissing the man he _loves_ until the sun came up. He wanted to. Didn't care who saw them (as if he did before). But he suddenly shook so forcefully he accidentally bit Tormund's lip.

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"F-f-f-uck." He groaned out and shook his head. He really is an idiot.

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"You're the dumbest person I know." Tormund says as Jon leans on Ghost to pull on his boots, voice thick. Tormund continued trying to put Jon's shirt on without removing the cloak. "Why did you do it? Are you trying to send me to an early grave?"

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Jon looked over and felt so incredibly guilty he was about to jump back in the ice hole to end it all. He reached over and gently grabbed Tormund's face once more in his blue-turning-red fingers. He ran his thumb under the sad eyes. "I'm sorry I made you worry."

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Tormund sighed and shook his head. "Why did you go diving without telling anyone? You could have gotten lifted by the current. Ghost could have actually listened to you for once and stayed put." 

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"I love you." Jon said again. Just so Tormund knew. 

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Tormund released a tiny smile back at jon. "My little Crow. My love."

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Jon grinned. Gathered closer to Tormund and closed his eyes. Then shivered so hard that they had to go back to Jon's tent and ignore the tools left on the ground.

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"Are you going to tell me?" Tormund asked when they had settled back in the tent, piles of furs on top of them as they twined their bodies together.

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Jon leaned his head back. His hair was already drying and curling at the ends. He was surrounded by warmth. "The only way for me to win over the chill in the air was to become colder than it."

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"You felt it. About near an ice statue." Tormund half joked. His hand was under Jon's shirt and over his heart. They were so close that the air was being shared.

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Jon just kept smiling. He reached up and traced Tomunds face. "I love you."

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He couldn't stop saying it,not when Tormund locked his lips with his own and definitely not when Tormund broke it off to yawn in his face. 

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Ghost on one side and Tormund on the other. A village of Wildlings surrounded them. Jon was warmer then any fire. He stopped shivering.

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Jon Snow was never a bastard. He was never this unwanted product from a gold coin spent at a brothel. Jon was a brother and cousin, a exiled king and soldier, and in love and loved by a man so generous and genuine it shocked Jon to know him.

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Jon was free.

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End file.
